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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162007">Distant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelightfulIntruder/pseuds/DelightfulIntruder'>DelightfulIntruder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Denial of Feelings, F/M, Masturbation, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sparring, dimigard week</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:13:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelightfulIntruder/pseuds/DelightfulIntruder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After reuniting with Edelgard, Dimitri finds himself thinking about her far more than he would like.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dimigard Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Distant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dimigard Week Day 1- Longing</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he saw her again, her hair was white. Lavender ribbons—she'd always been so fond of ribbons—kept it tidy, a complement to the eyes he did remember well.</p><p>To say he was surprised would have been something of an understatement. The thought that their paths could once again cross hadn't occurred to Dimitri, even if he had kept the memory of her tucked closely to his heart. At any rate, there was little room for sentiment when his days were otherwise preoccupied.</p><p>Still, that first sight of her, as beautiful as he'd remembered and her eyes still sparked with the same self-assured confidence, did stir something within his chest.</p><p>When Edelgard spoke to him, it was in formalities, her tone that of one addressing a stranger, drawing a sharp pang within him. An ache to know that she either no longer remembered him, or no longer cared. Which was worse, he was not certain.</p><p>Perhaps he should not have expected her to remember him as fondly as he had her. She was a different woman now, and he a different man, youth and the folly that came with it cast aside long ago. It was best to allow the past to remain there, untouched and therefore unable to be ruined.</p><p>Even so, there were moments that slipped through the facade.</p><p>Moments where he'd been caught watching her far more intently than he should have, teased by Claude who seemed convinced it was of a different nature. Moments of longing to pull her aside and beg for an answer for her distance. Moments where he'd find himself eyeing her white hair, forming conjectures as to what could have possibly caused it. Damn those ribbons. They were far too charming, far too familiar, far too evocative of the friend he no longer knew.</p><p>A brief desire to undo her ribbons claimed him then, to see her hair spill over his fingers. Just as quickly he snuffed it out, refusing to entertain the idea further.</p><p>Why that made him burn, he couldn't fathom.</p><p>Late at night she still haunted him, the unspoken questions burning like ash in his lungs. Did she still like to paint? Did she remember the time he'd taken her to go skating on the pond? Was she still as good a dancer now as she had been then? Did she still have the dagger?</p><p>He heaved a frustrated sigh at that last one as he sat upright, his clothes feeling too warm and his chest too tight. Pushing the thought away, Dimitri cast a glance at the clock and rolled onto his side to study the blade he'd left propped against his desk. The unfamiliar summer heat was stifling, refusing him sleep. Or was that his own doing? Each time his thoughts ventured towards Edelgard, he could feel a flush in his face, and an immediate need to suppress those wishes. He missed her, of that much he was certain. Though in doing so, he felt unreasonably selfish. After all, she seemed to be doing quite well for herself—happier than ever, even. Whatever they were, and whatever they could have been no longer mattered. Even so, he could hardly help himself, the question as to who they might have been if he was bolder burned the back of his mind. He could hear his father chiding him, a reminder that he wasn't allowed such things anymore.</p><p>Puffing a breath into the air, Dimitri rolled onto his back, the trickle of sweat down his spine drawing an involuntary shiver. How anyone could sleep like this, he would never know. As the clock continued to tick by, and the hour passed, his mind remained occupied, the soft whispers for revenge and the overwhelming noise within his own head denying him sleep. As the hour began to approach eleven, he supposed there would be no rest, and stood, redressing himself and grabbing his weapon. Making practical use of his insomnia was habitual, and he was exceedingly good at keeping it to himself. Even Dedue, attentive as he was, hardly knew the extent to which he'd stay up until the dawn, swinging a blade.</p><p>The echoing sound of company reached his ears as he opened the doors to the grounds, hopeful that a knight might be willing to spar with him. Instead, an all too familiar flash of white met his eyes, her feet moving in such graceful motions as his heart leapt at the sight. It was all too reminiscent of their days spent in the gardens, the way she would move about as she taught him to dance. </p><p>Again he was admiring her; her lithe form and confident stance. It had grown, once awkward yet assured, now something fierce and formidable. That stirring he'd fought so hard to quell this past week awoke, a plea to address her as El, to smile at her and ask if she remembered him. Dimitri cast that aside, even if he couldn't quite find the will to tear his eyes from her.</p><p>She was the first to break the enchantment, her eyes meeting his, body stiff as she stilled herself and lowered her sword. </p><p>"Oh—I hadn't expected to see someone else here," Dimitri said, taking in her stunned gaze and impressive regathering of her composure. He dipped into a curt bow, an apology for having not announced himself sooner. "I did not mean to stare. Your footwork is rather enviable, I must say."</p><p>"Is that so?" she said, tone even as she eyed him critically. "One would have thought you'd also have good technique."</p><p>For a moment, his mouth went dry, words failing him. It had to be a jab at her previous lessons, surely. "And what makes you say that?" he asked, hoping to further guide her. </p><p>"As a prince, I expect you would have access to many things most would not," Edelgard said, a wry tone to her voice. There was a smile on her lips, more haughty than familiar, but it was the most stunning thing he'd seen in quite some time.</p><p>Was he truly so forgettable then? "Yes, you're right. I did have an excellent teacher," he said, knowing she would not acknowledge it. For what reason he even said such a thing, he did not know. Why was he so insistent on ramming his heart into the same wall?</p><p>"Why are you here?" she asked, an abrupt end to the topic. </p><p>"I couldn't sleep. I'm afraid the heat is getting to me," he admitted, huffing a faint breath as he pushed his hair back. Better to speak in half-truths than utter lies. "And you?"</p><p>There was a momentary pause, as though she were considering his words. "I needed a moment alone," she said before turning her back to him, preparing to strike again at the targets.</p><p>"I see," he said, watching the arc of her arm as she followed through with the motion. At her hip, the familiar handle of his parting gift peeked out from behind her hair, a relic now of their forgotten affection. Did she still hold sentiment for the dagger? Perhaps it was kept only for utility. He could hear Glenn's laughter behind him, mocking and goading him. "I suppose in some sense, I did too."</p><p>Edelgard hummed an acknowledgement, again raising her blade as she turned to him. "I've heard you're rather skilled. Perhaps it would do us both some good to spar."</p><p>Now it was his turn to pause. Something fierce and unwavering burned in her gaze, and he, like a moth to a flame, could not resist. "You're right. I think it would do us some good. I could use the exercise," he said, taking a deep breath as he drew his sword. "I accept your challenge."</p><p>A silent breeze blew through, her hair waving like a banner, unfettered and as free as her spirit. Focused, always focused, her appraising gaze swept his form, unreadable. What was she thinking in moments like these? Clearing his head of everything but the thought of victory, he too readied his blade, eyes not that of a friend, but an opponent. And when she charged forward, taking the initiative in the hopes of catching him unprepared, he reacted, steadying himself for whatever came next.</p><p>She was strong in a way he hadn't anticipated. Edelgard had always been so stubborn, her will equivalent to that of any steel, but the force behind each blow was new. The few times they had done mock-battle with the other, he'd kept himself in great restraint, for fear of injuring her. Perhaps it was never necessary. With the weight of actual blades, she could display her power far greater than with sticks and wooden toys. Or perhaps she had been the one keeping herself restrained? That was unlike her, she'd never done anything in half-measures.</p><p>Caught unaware in this revelation, he was uncertain how to proceed, and she took the advantage, knocking him backwards and stumbling him. He fell to the ground, peering up at her in awe. From this angle, she appeared to glow, the firelight from the torches overhead setting her aflame and alighting her stern features. The look in her eyes was nothing short of absolute pride—arrogance, even—her lips never once betraying what she felt, whether joy or displeasure. A conquest she had won, and he was all the more enraptured by her for it.</p><p>The edge of her blade, pointed at his chest, withdrew slightly, her expression unreadable as she slowly dragged upward until it met his throat, the gentle caress of metal causing his heart to thud heavier. Could she feel his pulse against her blade?</p><p>His throat bobbed, the cool press of her sword all the more present as she tipped it up, just under his chin. There was nowhere left for his gaze to flee, her eyes appraising and harsh upon his own.</p><p>Edelgard's lips moved, though he was unable to comprehend anything beyond the thud of his heartbeat in his ears and the lingering sigh as she withdrew her sword. For the life of him, Dimitri couldn't understand why he fixated so on her lips, only that he found himself drawn to them in a way that made his pulse quicken.</p><p>Something beneath his skin was growing, a flame, or an urge, an indescribable sensation that coiled down his spine, pooled at his groin.</p><p>Intent on regaining his composure, he blinked, willing himself to tear his gaze from her mouth, to linger anywhere else. Her eyes, he reasoned, and cursed that too as he found himself drowning in their lavender hue. Forcing himself to stand, he offered little more than a sheepish smile as she studied his face, doubtlessly horrified with his conduct.</p><p>"Are you alright?" she asked, eyes narrowing as she stepped closer.</p><p>Why that excited him, he couldn't fathom. To touch her, to flee, to kiss her, to beg forgiveness, everything at once like a torrent in his head as she inched forward and he stepped back. He could not trust himself, not while his body sang to grab her hand, to embrace her against him and keep her there, to run his fingers through those white locks and ask why it was so. Not while his thoughts begged him to demand answers for her distance.</p><p>"Yes, perfectly fine," he managed, tearing his gaze away. A forced smile followed, and a bow. "Thank you for your time. I will concede defeat for now."</p><p>"For now, is it?" she laughed. How his heart fluttered at the sound. It was everything he'd known and loved as a boy, everything he'd not known he'd missed until this instant. "Then I look forward to our rematch."</p><p>Her words lingered, haunting him the entirety of his walk back to his quarters, the sensation of her blade like a brand that still burned. His fingers gingerly touched his throat, amazed at how easily he'd allowed her that victory. Had that been anyone else, would he have submitted? The pulse in his throat was still weighty as he stumbled his way back into his room, and shut the door behind him with a heavy thud.</p><p>His clothes were hastily tossed aside and replaced with his sleepwear before he slid himself onto his bed, still far too hot to bother with the covers.</p><p>Again, the night's events raced through his mind. It was reminiscent of the way she'd always been, unyielding. Or perhaps he'd always been so quick to surrender to her, exacerbated with their reunion. The truth of it likely lay somewhere between the two, as inescapable now as it was then. She'd teased mercilessly, taught well, given his heart the thrill of something unplaceable.</p><p>The same thrill that she'd given him tonight.</p><p>Even now, his body felt ablaze, mind empty but for the thought of Edelgard towering above him, and her pink lips. In the echoing recesses of his mind, he could picture the things he should have never wanted, his eyes screwing shut as he willed the images away. Images of standing beside her rather than how the scene had ended that evening, running his fingertips over her jaw, cupping her cheek, kissing her. Of her growing flush as he shoved that sword away and settled on his knees to mouth at her through her clothes. Of her pushing him down on his back to sit on his lap and claim his lips. A foreign tightness in his trousers was growing, the touch of his curious hand against his hard, aching cock eliciting the smallest of moans.</p><p>Horrified with himself, Dimitri grit his teeth, bidding it away. Her friendship. That was all he desired, despite the betrayal of his body. It was an unwitting reaction to an unusual occurrence. He had to believe that, no matter how hollow the excuse rang.</p><p>Withdrawing his hand, he tipped his head back, focusing on the cracks in his ceiling, certain he would grow familiar with them in the future sleepless nights within these walls. How strange, that the first had come not from the regrets of the dead, but a girl he had missed.</p><p>Again, those intrusive thoughts pervaded. With no small measure of interest he pondered how soft her skin would feel beneath his fingertips. Just to hold her hand once more in his own, he reasoned with himself, keeping the rest of the imaginings at bay. Despite his efforts, unbidden images of his fingers caressing the curve of her neck, coming to cup the back of her head slipped through. How easy it would be to kiss her in such a position, to draw her closer so that he could feel the press of her against him. To slip a hand beneath the fabric of her shirt and find her breast and tease until she moaned his name.</p><p>Willing the thoughts to leave, he rolled into his stomach, choking a strangled sob into his pillow as his erection begged for release. Of their own volition, his hips began to rut against the mattress, the friction offering a minute amount of relief. Desperate for more, he reasoned this was entirely utilitarian in the sense that it would push that longing away, freeing him from whatever hold Edelgard had on him. Satisfied enough in that reasoning, he thrust himself once more into his sheets, a trembling hand freeing his cock from his sleepwear. A wanting noise was muddled by his pillow as he bit it, and with increasing fervor he began to move, the silken caress of the sheets half as good as he imagined Edelgard would feel around him.</p><p>Once more, his thoughts grew untamed, and he wholly embraced it. What would she look like beneath her clothes? She must have been beautiful, his mind conjuring images of her beneath him in the training grounds, of being bolder in his desires and kissing her, embracing her, asking those forbidden questions. Her hair would have been everywhere, wilted white rose petals against the earthen tiles, clinging to her face as he pushed into her, pleased her. Would she plead? Bite back noises? Cry his name aloud for all to know? No. He knew her. She would take what she wanted, unapologetic, just as she had been in taking her victory. </p><p>Whatever she wanted of him, she could have.</p><p>He could hear her voice as Edelgard guided him throughout with the same stern affection she’d had when she’d taught him to dance. How to pleasure her, where to touch her, when to kiss her, whispering praises as he learned quickly. How desperately he wanted to feel her claw into his shoulders, deeper and deeper with each thrust until she marked him as her own. Her skin would bear marks of his own, bruises on her hips as he held her, moving at whichever rhythm she liked best until her guidance faded into moans.</p><p>With a whimper of her name, Dimitri's motions increased their pace, the ache growing to a precipice as he gripped the sheets below, unheeding to the sounds of cloth tearing. Edelgard. There was nothing else. Just her smile, her embrace, the sound of his name upon her lips.</p><p>Her name—a chant, a prayer, a curse—endlessly tumbled from his mouth. All it had taken was one evening, and he was hers once more. As he'd always been. With a low, helpless grunt of her forbidden nickname, he spilled, seed dripping over his stomach as he fucked himself into his mattress again and again, until nothing more could be given and his moans dimmed to a whisper. The stain shone pearly in the moonlight, hot against his skin as he sat upright. With one final, lengthy sigh, he rolled on his back, pushing back his disheveled hair and panting. The deep, heavy sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, and for a moment his eyes slipped closed, warmth spreading throughout his body.</p><p>The bliss of it eventually faded, and he sat up, the cooling mess on his stomach and bed still needing attending to. There was a washrag provided in the corner of the room, along with the other provisions supplied by the church, and he stumbled briefly in the dark to search it out.</p><p>Dimitri tossed the rag aside when the deed was done, now forced to reckon with the weight of what had happened. The understanding that his desire to reconnect was no longer the innocent thing he'd incessantly told himself it was weighed heavy upon him. The faint echoed sound of her laughter again teased at the edge of his consciousness; goading, coaxing. Perhaps he was always so base. After all, he'd longed for something inexplicable when they were children, to an almost selfish degree. Her friendship, he'd always thought, though now it was identifiable as the beginnings of young love. Doubtlessly that had bled to his adolescence, transforming it until it was no longer distinguishable from common lust. Another unacceptable part of himself to be cut away.</p><p>Tossing his arm across his face, he heaved an exhausted sigh. This would have to be forgotten, the folly of a single night. After all, his will and the will of those whose burdens he carried were at odds with the other, his body no longer his own, but a tool to aid in the pursuit of revenge. To protest otherwise would be to deny them their peace. Even now, they looked upon him with scorn, his affection mocked with vicious litany.</p><p>And yet it remained, a warm thing within his chest that brought a rare smile to his lips.</p><p>El.</p><p>Even now, his heart still sang out to her, pulsing at the thought of her. That was all there was. Moments shared in the gardens nearby, stolen sweet buns split between them; the hours spent racing about the snow-covered fields, speaking of future summers where he would show her the blooms; the smiles they'd shared in secret so long ago. Smiles he still hoped to see now.</p><p>Tucking the thought away, Dimitri closed his eyes, but not before glancing at the clock. One in the morning.</p><p>Tomorrow, he would forget this had happened. Tomorrow, he would be the perfect stranger she saw him as. Tomorrow, he would long for her no further, and keep himself from wanting anything other than the revenge he'd come here for.</p><p>But for tonight, his heart was hers. Just as it had always been.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some prompts may be late. I apologize for that. The intent is for a series of loosely connected one-shots.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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